


Broken

by percywinchester27



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood, Dean being the absolute best, F/M, Fluff, Graphic Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, Shock, Trauma, implied rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:02:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28617009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/percywinchester27/pseuds/percywinchester27
Summary: The reader is found bloody and broken on cold concrete by the man with green eyes. Sometimes love is the only thing capable of healing a person.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 10
Kudos: 48





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the warnings. This is a deeply personal fic. I still can't read it without tearing up.

_You were running, heart bursting out of your chest, fear making it crawl into your throat. You were making every attempt to propel yourself ahead, to escape from your assailant. Your legs were cramping and your bare feet were bleeding as you sprinted over the coarse asphalt. You could hear the sound of the footsteps closing in on you and with the last burst of air in your lungs you urged your body to keep moving. But you were slow, too slow to save yourself, as a hand reached into your hair, grasping a fistful and pulled you back. Pain surged through your head, making you dizzy, as you hit the asphalt hard. The impact nearly knocked you out; your eyes starting to water. Next second a swift kick landed in your gut.  
_

_“You fucking bitch..”_

_The kick got you so hard, that you rolled over and threw up on the road. That’s when the second blow came- swift and hard to your skull. It did the job and you went skittering, head first, into the garage pole. Though the tears and agony was making it hard for you to speak, with the last ounce of hope you looked up and pleaded, begged…_

_“P-Please…”_

_The cold laughter that sounded above you killed the last shred of hope. A hairy arm grabbed you by your hair again and pulled you up, tearing the strands right from the roots. The scream that echoed in the empty parking lot was the most horrifying thing that you had heard. A scream that died prematurely as a gag was roughly pushed into your mouth, along with a bloody tooth that had come loose because of a previous slap. That scream had been yours._

_Before you knew it, your clothes were on the ground, ripped away hungrily. leaving cuts in your flesh. Even though your eyes could see nothing but black spots, you wildly swung your arms, desperate to find an escape, desperate to live._

_Rough hands greedily attacked every inch of your naked skin. You wanted to fight, but you couldn’t feel your limbs. There was only pain._

_“This is what you get for saying no, bitch..”_

_With the last gasp of air in your throat you screamed loudly as you could, only for the sound to die at the gag. The vague shape of the monster came crashing down upon you.._

You woke up screaming into the night, heart thudding against the ribs. For a second you couldn’t make sense of the where you were. It was dark and warm and comfortable. The recognition came next- you were in your bed. Your entire body was drenched in sweat and you were shaking with fear.

“Y/N” The deep voice wrenched you from the horror. It was a breath of fresh air after being submerged in water for too long. The mere realization that this voice and this man existed overwhelmed you in the moment and the tears started cascading down your face.

“Y/N/N, sweetheart, shhh… baby, I’m here. It’s okay. You’re safe,” he repeated his first ever words to you as you cried into his neck, clinging to him like your life depended on his existence, which wasn’t very far off from the truth.

You wrapped your hands around his waist, hugging him closer, burying yourself into his chest. All the while he rubbed small circles into your naked back. The whole scene could have looked devastatingly forlorn, except that the man you held in your arms was cherishing you will equal fervor and that was how you stayed until all your tears completely subsided.

Finally breaking apart, you looked at him. Despite the dark, you could see worry clearly etched in his brilliant green eyes.

“What do you need, baby?” his voice was laced with pain.

“Water” you mumbled.

His hands cupped your chin and he planted a soft kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

You watched him as he fluidly rose from the bed and walked up to the door, closing it again in his wake. However, few steps out he stopped, his shadow casting a dark pattern on the ajar door.

“Heard her screaming. She okay?” inquired a second voice.

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“I thought it had stopped. It’s been like what? A month now?”

“Yeah. I had thought so too.”

“She need anything?”

“I got it. Go back to bed.”

“Okay.”

You sighed, slumping back on to the bed, wondering what could you possibly have done to deserve all this love.

* * *

You didn’t remember the details and were thankful every day for that. In the early days, you had tried with every fiber of your being to erase it all from your memory, but try as you might, some of it still remained.

You remembered lying on the floor, naked, blood seeping on to the cold, hard concrete. You remembered the flare of floodlights as a car stopped to a screeching halt in front of you. There had been so much pain that you didn’t care you were naked. All you’d wanted as you lay there shivering was to die, to be released for the torment. You remembered the firm arms that had draped a jacket around your body and gently lifted you from the ground. You remembered being placed into the back seat of the car and most of all you remembered that voice, that deep, comforting voice- “You’re going to be alright. Hold on,” he’d implored.

You had wanted to believe that voice, to not give up after all, but as the vehicle purred to life, the last thing you remembered was the rich smell of leather and whiskey wafting from the warm jacket. You closed your eyes and lost awareness.

You’d been out for most of it- the treatment as they called it. Consciousness was always around the edge, but you drifted in and out of it like a dream, a nightmare, unable to recognise which part of it was real.

Two voices were audible somewhere close by, one of them was _his_ and he was angry.

“What do you mean there’s nobody?”

“We identified her. She works at a jewelers downtown. Name’s Y/N Y/L/N, twenty-seven. Orphaned at the age of twelve with no living relatives. Last known address apart from the current one is that of foster home,” said the other voice.

“Son of a bitch,” he swore softly. “So what now?”

“We’ll have to keep her here for at least another week. There are fractured ribs, a fractured arm, and lacerations to the head. Then there’s the internal bleeding and the invasive injuries to her… well, it’ll take time.”

He swore again. “What happened to that asshole who did this to her?” His voice seethed with rage.

“They have him locked up. He’s not going anywhere. I’ll need your name for all the formalities, Sir.”

There was a pause.

“Dean Winchester,” he finally said.

He started to ask something else but sleep overpowered you and that was that.

There were other times when another voice had interrupted your slumber, this one was somehow softer and kinder. He knew Dean.

“How’s she doing?” questioned the voice.

“The same. They’re saying she is better now and that it’s the drugs keeping her under, but I don’t know.”

“We can’t leave her here, she has no family.”

“No, we can’t,” Dean agreed. “We’ll stay for awhile, see how this goes.”

“She’ll be fine. You should get some rest, you’ve been up all night.”

“ Alright, I’ll go,” Dean exhaled. “There’s something about her face, Sam…”

You wanted to open your eyes but the numbing sensation was not limited to your body, it was making your brain lethargic, too, making it harder to think, to understand. You wanted to see this Dean, the one who had saved your life. You wanted to put a face to that name, but that numbness crushed you again.

_The bar hadn’t been crowded that night and the man in the corner seat was staring at you in a way that made your skin crawl. He had later grabbed your ass on the dance floor and you had turned back and slapped him, you had said no…. and now you were the one who was screaming that “no” as he chased you down the deserted lane._

You’d jerked awake in the hospital bed, pain lacing through your arms as a few tubes ripped. You winced, panicking, not recognizing the cold and clinical atmosphere around you, not remembering why you were here. Then it all came back. The vital-stats monitor went wild as the events of that night crashed over you. Your breath came out in short burst and tears pooled in your eyes. The pain was unbearable. You felt so lost and vulnerable; you felt ashamed. One phrase echoed on and on in your head- “Why me?”

As you frantically searched for the answer, your eyes met with a pair of brilliant green. He was sitting right next to your bed.

“Hey, hey, Y/N… It’s ok, you’re safe.” He pressed the button to call the nurse.

You didn’t know this man. Who was he? You were starting to feel lightheaded.

“I’m Dean,” he continued. “Look at me, I’m not going to hurt you. You’re going to be fine, Y/N. Just breathe. You’re going to be alright.” There was pain in his eyes.

He was a stranger, but you found yourself listening to this man. You took deep breaths as he counted them for you. On the count of 6 the RN came looking for you and straight away busied herself with the tubes that had been wrenched out, trying to talk to you to calm you down, but you weren’t listening. Your eyes were fixed on this disheveled looking, green eyed man and his eyes in-turn were trained on you. The nurse sedated you again and till the moment you fell asleep, you did not look away.

The next time that you woke up, your mind was more composed. You opened your eyes expecting to see the green again, but instead a tall, long-haired man lounged on the sofa, working on a laptop. It took him some time to notice that you were awake. When he did, his face lit up in the kindest smile that you had seen in a long time. He slid from the sofa and quickly took the seat next to you.

“Hey, my name’s Sam." 

You remembered the disjointed conversations better this time, head clearer than it had been before . You remembered his voice and his name. You recalled enough to know that he and Dean had saved your life but you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words out loud.

Dean came into the room just then and noticed that you were up.

"Hey, Y/N,” Dean’s eyes were careful but tender all the same; he didn’t want to scare you. You said nothing, you simply couldn’t.

The doctors had come in then, checking your vitals, figuring the recovery, asking questions- questions that you didn’t answer. The following hours passed in a haze as multiple tests. All the unknown faces had scared you. All the while, Dean followed you around, explaining the procedures to you in a soft voice. Even though you didn’t answer, he never left your side. You weren’t really asleep when the doctors told the boys about how they think you might be in a shock and that it may have temporarily affected your ability of speech.

When the week was over and you couldn’t stay any longer, the doctors had asked you to write down if there was anybody at all who could take you home. They had explained to you that you were going to be discharged. You had again looked into those green eyes and quietly grabbed the sleeves of his long jacket, holding to it with all your strength, yearning him to understand. One confirming look at Sam and he had vehemently told the doctor that you would be going home with them.

The truth was, there was no one. No family and no close friends, you had always been a loner and it had never bothered you until then. Right then, it was killing you.

The Winchesters had walked you to the car, Dean’s arms never leaving your shoulders as he gently guided you out of the hospital. Dean had driven for a few hours and ended up at what seemed like an abandoned warehouse. It looked scary and like a terrified child you had clung to Dean again while he patiently explained that there was a bunker beneath.

The bunker had been overwhelming at first, all the passages and corridors scared you, reminded you of that night and made you want to cry, but Dean was always right next to you. The boys had showed you your room and helped you into bed that night. The first night in the bunker you’d woken up screaming. Both the boys had come running to your room, where they’d stayed up with you until the next day. All night long, Dean’s fingers had carded through your hair, even where chunks of your scalp were missing, lulling you to sleep, comforting you, and reminding you of a time when your mother used to do the same .

The next day had been the most difficult. One of them had cooked up a scrumptious breakfast for you, but you needed help eating it. One more look at Dean and he’d understood. Honestly, it seemed like the man could see right into your soul through your broken, pleading eyes. In one quick movement he was next to you, helping you with the eggs, his own mouth opening and tongue sticking out unconsciously as he urged you to open yours. You had wanted to laugh and the impulse shocked you.

Your arm was broken and you could barely breathe because of the ribs. The long drive and the nightmares and left you filthy and sweaty. You needed a shower, but you couldn’t say it out loud. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and words died on your lips. Once again, tears had pooled in your eyes at the extreme helplessness of the situation. Dean noticed.

“Y/N, sweetheart? What do you need?”

You looked down, the tears falling onto your arm, unable to talk and unable to do this one simple task yourself. It felt like being trapped within your own violated body. As the tears glided down your cheeks, Dean spoke. "Do you need to shower?" 

Dean’s voice was tender, his eyes were watery. He understood your predicament, but they were all they had, all you had, right now.

He distanced himself slightly and held his palms up.

"I’m not going to hurt you. I can help you with it, only- only if you’re okay with this. We don’t have a girl in here, so you are going to have to trust me on this. Can you do that?” There was no pity in his words… only worry.

You had trusted this man to bring you home with him. To an outsider, the whole situation would be impossible to believe. A shattered girl like yourself going off with strangers. But he had saved your life, lifted your naked form from what could’ve been your death bed and gotten you help. There was no question of not trusting him. You nodded quietly and relief visibly surged through Dean.

He guided you slowly to the big bathroom of the bunker and into the bath. When he helped you out of your clothes, it didn’t feel wrong, there was something pure about the gesture. His hands were gentle as they soaped your body and washed it. He’d wrapped you into a towel and led you back to your room. You had looked up at him with grateful eyes as he guided you into bed and he’d smiled back kindly.

So the days had passed. The brothers did everything that they could to make you feel at home. You watched movies together and had sleep in Sundays. They always let you pick the movie and watched it, even if it was a Disney flick. When you chose _Cinderella_ , Dean had groaned dramatically, before coming to realize that you might take offense but you had giggled at his reaction. Both the Winchesters had stared you like they were witnessing a miracle.

Then, there were the nights when you couldn’t sleep alone because you always woke up screaming. You needed Dean. Just like that first time, he always managed to calm you down from the worst of the panic attacks. When he whispered your name, it made you feel safe somehow. Even though you had never really experienced it before, when you looked into Dean Winchester’s eyes, you knew it was _love._ It splintered your already broken heart, knowing Dean could never possibly want you that way. He had seen all your scars and how fragile you were, he saw it every day. Dean had cared for you till you could take care of yourself, but only as a friend. You wanted to be with him, but you didn’t know how. He could touch you and he had, but the implications were different and you were relieved that they were. Some nights, lying in his arms, you just couldn’t help but want more and wordless tears spilled from your eyes onto his chest.

The Winchesters left the bunker only one at a time, never leaving you alone and more often than not, they returned bloody. You knew what they did, you had heard them talk and flipped through the lore books in the library. They hunted monsters and saved people. Somehow this hadn’t surprised you; they had saved you after all. You helped patch them up when they came back in tatters, this was your chance to repay them, even if just a little. You noticed how Dean’s eyes lingered on yours when you bandaged his shoulders, or how tiny goosebumps erupted on this skin when your fingers grazed his flesh. You’d always wanted to hope there was something more for him, too.

Even in your wildest dreams, you hadn’t imagined that it would be true. It happened one night; the boys were researching in the library, their radio playing random tunes in the background. You’d been sitting on the floor by the book shelves when the familiar beat of your favorite song startled you. The lyrics followed:

_I’m falling apart, I’m barely breathing_

_With a broken heart that’s still beating_

_In the pain there is healing_

_In your name I find meaning_

_So I’m holdin’ on, I’m holdin’ on, I’m holdin’ on_

_I’m barely holdin’ on to you.._

“Don’t change…” you exclaimed as you saw Sam’s hand stretching towards the radio. The sound of your own diminished, raspy voice startled you. It felt unfamiliar and alien, yet made you home sick. The song played on.

_I’m falling apart, I’m barely breathing_

_With a broken heart that’s still beating_

You were reeling, lost in your own thoughts, taking in the meaning of those words. It was true, you were broken. So lost were you in your own moment that you had missed the awed look that the brothers exchanged. Both of them rushed down to your side when they saw the sobs wracking your body. Immediately Dean’s arms were around you, comforting you, while you clutched him tight.

“Why? Why did it happen to me? Why _me?”_ you heaved in-between the sobs.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t -” Dean’s voice broke and it made you cry harder. You had all cried that night, tears of pain and tears of joy.

It seemed like a dam had cracked that night and the Y/N you knew, the Y/N that you were slowly started to seep out again. You laughed a little with them now, on Dean’s corny jokes and Sam’s bitch faces. You helped them with their research. Gradually you started dancing and singing and doing all those things that you loved, that made you, _you_. Slowly, but steadily, you went back to being that unapologetic girl that you always had been. Every time you looked into the boys’ eyes, they shone with pride.

The one thing that hadn’t changed were the night terrors. Each night you woke up screaming and each night Dean reassured you, until one day it was too much for you to take and in an unguarded moment you had pushed yourself forward and pressed your lips to his. What had surprised you was the fervor with which he had returned the kiss. That night he had worshiped your body, held and touched you in ways you couldn’t even remember now. He had revered you, gently attempting to right the wrongs. That night, Dean had made love to you.

Words were not said, because nothing you could have been said that would even compare.

* * *

“Water, Y/N,” Dean’s words woke you out of your reverie.

In his absence, lost in your own thoughts you had become cold. Dean handed you the glass and slipped under the blanket over you, rubbing your arms.

“How?” you questioned. “How did you even fall in love with me? I was broken beyond words when you found me. In a lot of ways, I still am. How did this even happen?”

“Who isn’t broken here?” Dean laughed once, but there was no humor there. “I fell in love with the person that you are, Y/N/N. I could see that girl in your eyes all along. And I love _her._ Guess our broken pieces fit. _”_

The mystery still baffled you, but you were grateful to have found Dean, so you weren’t going to question your luck.

Snuggling up against his bare chest, your fingers traced his contours. “I love you, Dean Winchester.”

You could feel his smile, even if you couldn’t see it. “Love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dean's POV can be found in the drabble named 'words.' Feedback is deeply appreciated. Please let me know what you think.


End file.
